When Anne Straub, a language arts teacher at Hoover Middle School in Indialantic emailed asking for a journalist to talk to students about their job, I volunteered. When assistant principal Catherine McNutt followed up with me, I was undaunted. I’ve spoken at high schools and elementary schools and Rotary clubs. No problem.

I arrived at the school office, checked in, and Mrs. McNutt walked me to the gym through a hallway teeming with tweens and teens. A din of excited energy vibrated off floors and walls.

I almost froze in my tracks. Suddenly I was a frightened, insecure 12-year-old again, desperately wanting to be liked. I looked to Mrs. McNutt in panic. She was unfazed. This was her turf. Her confidence kept me moving.

I was scheduled to talk to 75 to 100 kids at a time, bunched together in the center section of the bleachers; six sessions in all.

The students filed in, some stomping up the risers, making as much noise and drawing as much attention as possible. Others made their way carefully and quietly to a corner in the back, shrinking into the crowd.

Mrs. McNutt introduced me. I took a deep breath and faced my fears. I decided the best approach was honesty. I told them:

I hate the way my voice sounds when I’m using a microphone, sort of like a cartoon character.

When I was in middle school, all the way through college, I was painfully shy. I had to get a neighbor to order pizza for me, because I couldn’t talk to strangers. I didn’t realize until I was well into my major that the very heart of journalism is talking to strangers.

I love my job and love getting the chance to share people’s stories, to help people know their community and their neighbors.

As a journalist, I do my best to keep my opinions to myself. It’s more important to lay out the facts and let people form their own opinions.

Then it was time for questions. Some, I was prepared for:

How much do you make? About the same as a school teacher. I’m not going to get rich, but I can pay my bills.

Have you ever interviewed a celebrity? Nadia Comaneci, though only one student all day knew who that was.

Do you have kids? Yes. His name is Earl, and he’s got four paws.

Some questions surprised me:

Why do you tell other people’s stories instead of doing what you want to do? Because other people’s stories are more interesting than mine. And I do get to sneak in a story of my own every now and then.

Do you have tips for how to overcome being shy? Do something that scares you. Eventually it becomes easier. I pretend I’m in a play. When I take on a role, I act brave. Suzy the Reporter can talk to anyone. Suzy the Poodle Mom is still shy and afraid.

And some questions were confusing.

Do you like Nickelback? Um, I guess?

That one came up again during the next session. Was I being punked by the popular kids?

The third time, I thought I’d come up with the perfect response: I’d rather have a dime back. One teacher laughed. No one else got the joke.

Finally, I made a preemptive strike. Before anyone asks, I said, as an unbiased journalist, I feel it would be inappropriate for me to voice an opinion on Nickelback. A group of boys to my left, dropped their raised hands to their laps.

I left Hoover that afternoon exhausted, but impressed. I was amazed by the care, compassion and control the teachers and administrators had when working their their charges. I was blown away by how smart, thoughtful and clever the students were.

My day in middle school was definitely educational.

I’ve finally mastered the math to figure out how old I’ll be in a few days. But I’ve also realized no matter how old I am, a part of me will always be an insecure 12-year-old, desperately wanting to be liked.